


Incoherent

by help_me_no



Series: The Strength of Minotaurs [7]
Category: Hades (Video Game 2018)
Genre: M/M, Overstimulation, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Size Difference, Size Kink, Strength Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-24
Updated: 2021-02-24
Packaged: 2021-03-15 00:55:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,130
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29675943
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/help_me_no/pseuds/help_me_no
Summary: Theseus insists that Asterius is such an incredible lover that it has rendered him speechless and mindless. Asterius refutes that initial claim, but decides to go ahead and earn the praise anyways.
Relationships: Asterius | The Minotaur/Theseus (Hades Video Game)
Series: The Strength of Minotaurs [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2125833
Comments: 5
Kudos: 154





	Incoherent

**Author's Note:**

> Just dropping you right into the middle of some smut here.

Theseus is ruined. He is no longer Theseus, he is— “simply an ooze of pleasure, my dearest friend! You have unmade me! Theseus, champion of Elysium is no more! I am senseless, speechless, incapable of thought! All that is left is a nameless body that aches for you, for you to have and use as you wish!”

Asterius laughs warmly, and his chest shakes beneath where Theseus has collapsed. “Only Theseus, champion of Elysium could babble so, and with such dramatics. I suspect he is in there still.”

Theseus pouts, swatting at Asterius half-heartedly.

“Can you not just take the compliment? I have told you you are so adept in the arts of pleasure that you have undone the greatest hero of Elysium, and you would deflect?! Do not mock me Asterius!”

Asterius snuffles against Theseus’s throat, and he tips his head to the side obligingly.

“Perhaps I think I am not deserving of such praise—“

“Of course you are, my friend! Why—“

“—Yet.”

“Oh. Ah. That is...” Theseus flounders.

Asterius rolls them over, flipping their positions, and presses a single huge hand against Theseus’s abdomen, pushing him up the bed. Theseus does not resist.

“Perhaps, my king, I merely think I need to try harder to earn that praise. Is that... amenable to you?”

It is and Theseus effusively tells Asterius as much, at incredible length. Asterius sits back on his heels, and lets Theseus expound on it while he gently runs his hands down Theseus’s chest and hips. He takes his time to gently massage Theseus’s arms and palms and thighs, easing him into it. Theseus is still sensitive from several previous orgasms, and though he could use Elysium’s powers to will himself back to a full, burning arousal, Asterius gently pats at his hip and tells him not to try so hard. Theseus laughs and reaches a hand down to nudge Asterius’s shoulder.

“Hard, you say?”

Asterius whuffs a deep sigh.

“You’re insufferable, my king. And perhaps a little delirious. Relax. I will take care of you.”

Theseus could not stop the shiver that runs through him if he wanted to. He does not. And it’s more than worth it for the lazy look Asterius gives him in response, a smug smile twinkling in his eyes.

“I am relaxed, my love!” Theseus booms.

Instead of answering, Asterius leans down and licks a wet stripe along the crease of Theseus’s thighs and down to his balls. Theseus yelps.

But he will admit a certain competitive spirit, and so he looks down at Asterius and wraps a hand around one horn, and says “You know, there are easier ways to shut me up, my friend!” (It’s only a little choked.)

Asterius looks up at him from underneath his long eyelashes, and Theseus tries not to whimper at the image Asterius makes between his thighs.

“I do not wish you _silent_ , my king,” Asterius says. “That would be counter to who you are, and I’ve grown quite fond of your loud mouth. I quite like you as you are.”

Theseus thought he was too exhausted and wrung out to still blush, but the heat in his face tells him otherwise.

“But—“ Asterius continues. He gives Theseus one of his slow, smug blinks that serve as a smirk on his face. “I’d like to see you incoherent.”

Theseus opens his mouth to protest, and then Asterius leans down and presses the wet flat of his tongue to Theseus’s hole.

Theseus spasms and the words in his throat spill out as jumbled noise. Asterius reaches down to grip his ass and spread Theseus open, and Theseus cries out at the way that allows Asterius to press his tongue inside.

“Asterius, you— you are making a mess of me! Why I—“

Asterius grumbles a little and grabs a small tin of salve. If Theseus already felt wet and sloppy before, it’s nothing compared to when Asterius pulls away, face damp with his own spit, and smears the grease across Theseus’s hole. Theseus bucks a little, and Asterius fastens a firm hand on his hip, and drags him down, splitting him open on a waiting finger.

Asterius fingers him open slowly, resting on his heels to watch Theseus’s reactions. Theseus manages a handful of petulant complaints at the slow pace, then devolves into begging Asterius for more, but Asterius is unmoved. The weight of Asterius’s gaze is almost as intense as the finger inside him, and Theseus writhes on the bed, fingers clenching and unclenching in the sheets.

When Theseus is wailing, babbling nonsense as Asterius gently strokes his finger inside of him, Asterius finally crooks it, curving to press against Theseus’s prostate. Theseus shouts, kicking out reflexively. Asterius manages to grab him by the ankle with his free hand before it connects. Then Asterius stills entirely, single finger still deep inside of Theseus, his other hand holding Theseus’s leg aloft.

Theseus squirms, trying to goad Asterius back into movement. He’s pinned in two places, by Asterius’s grip on his leg and the finger pressing inside of him, but he manages to twist his body between the anchor points, flailing with his free arms. He’s half forming words in his mouth, trying to complain, and they’ve almost made their way into something understandable, when Asterius hums, a low rumble that Theseus can feel. Slowly, so slowly, Asterius lowers his foot down to the bed where Theseus’s other leg lies. He loosens his grip for a moment, but instead of releasing Theseus, wraps his huge hand around his other ankle as well, and pulls his legs vertical.

It’s not enough to lift Theseus’s hips up off the bed, but the angle strains his calves just enough, the hint of a burn should they be held there too long. Equally important, the motion shifts Theseus’s body around Asterius’s still finger, and he wails as it slides past his prostate once again.

“So loud still,” Asterius says against the back of one raised calf. He sounds pleased.

Then Asterius drags his finger out (Theseus cries out in wordless protest), and when he presses back in it’s with a second beside it. Theseus fully screams. It’s a stretch Theseus thinks he’ll never get used to, that feels new every time, and that his brain is always sure is more intense then anything he’s ever experienced (regardless of how often he _has_ experienced even more). He tries to fuck back against Asterius’s fingers, but his position allows him no leverage so he can only rock back in pathetic little circles.

“Do you think I can keep you like this?” Asterius muses, and Theseus can’t tell if it’s rhetorical or he’s meant to answer.

“I can’t imagine this is comfortable,” and Asterius briefly tightens his grip around Theseus’s ankles. Theseus stares at where they’re held, at the way Asterius’s hand is so huge as to completely encircle them both.

Then Asterius strokes his thumb against the curve of Theseus’s ankle, presses a kiss there, and thrusts his two fingers at the same instant he pushes, just a little, against Theseus’s legs. The stretch inside of Theseus and the ache in his legs blur together into an intoxicating pleasure-pain. His thoughts fracture into a thousand shards, and he tries to beg Asterius for more, to slow down, to never stop, to keep going, to burn through him like fire through kindling.

“I cannot understand you, my king,” Asterius rumbles. His tone is indulgent and amused and just a tiny bit mean. If Theseus wasn’t already burning he’d be sure his blood would run hotter. Asterius voice softens for just a moment to ask “Do you need me to stop?” but Theseus shakes his head violently, still blurting out half-sounds that never coalesce into words.

Asterius’s posture relaxes from merely comfortable and into something indulgent and indolent and lazy and self-satisfied as he watches Theseus struggle to speak. He continues to thrust his fingers inside of Theseus, changing his pace periodically to stroke gently against his walls, or scissor his fingers a little. Every time Theseus nearly has the beginning of a thought, or at least a word, on the tip of his tongue, Asterius shifts gears and everything flies from Theseus’s head.

“In—inside,” Theseus finally manages to choke out.

“Hm?”

Theseus can’t possibly make any more words so he instead fumbles for Asterius. Asterius obligingly rises to his knees and leans forward. The movement pushes at Theseus’s raised legs a bit, and the strain punches all the air out of Theseus’s lungs. Nonetheless, Theseus manages to stretch one arm out, brushing the tips of his fingers against Asterius’s length. It’s gratifying that Asterius is so hard, just from watching him, from fingering Theseus open without being touched himself.

Asterius grunts in surprise, hips jerking forward involuntary towards his touch, but he manages to still himself.

“Theseus, my king, you are too sensitive, and not nearly prepared enough.” His voice is shaking and Theseus takes satisfaction from that.

“Not—“ he manages again, before he gives up.

He reaches his own hands down his ass to smack ineffectually at Asterius’s hand until he reluctantly draws his fingers out. (Theseus knows he whimpers at the loss; he can’t help it even if it’s in service of his own plans.) Then Theseus uses one hand to draw himself open, and uses the other to rub the flat of his fingers against his pucker.

“Oh,” Asterius breathes. He finally releases Theseus’s legs, but instead of lowering them, he rests his ankles over one shoulder. It leaves both his hands now free, and continues to hold Theseus’s position through sheer tension. With a little effort, Theseus could probably slide his legs free, bringing them down into a more comfortable pose and allowing him to lay flat. He’s not sure he has enough strength to do so. He doesn’t try.

Asterius leans forward and presses the tip of his cock against Theseus. The huge head applies just enough pressure that Theseus’s whole body trembles with anticipation for penetration that’ll never come. Asterius’s now free hand strokes himself, while the other holds Theseus’s hip, sometimes taking the time to dip back inside, stretch him out just a bit, before withdrawing and leaving him wanting. Asterius grinds against Theseus’s hole, and it’s exactly what he wanted, his nerve endings fucking screaming at the stimulation.

Theseus’s face is wet with tears and spit, and he gazes up at Asterius, whose own breath grows increasingly ragged.

He finally manages to coordinate his mouth and brain enough to groan out a halting “A-steri- _us_.”

Asterius’s hips stutter in response, and then he is bellowing, and Theseus can feel wetness spilling against his ass and his thigh and his hole and hopefully inside as well and he screams. His hips attempt a half-thrust that is impossible, with his legs held aloft, and his cock jumps against his stomach, spilling his own cum across his chest.

They stay that way, breathing heavily, until Asterius gives a start and gently helps Theseus lowers his legs back to the bed. He can’t stop the faint whimper at the way they’ve cramped, and Asterius begins to gently massage his legs, shushing him soothingly. The pain begins to fade, and when they begin to feel warm and lax, Theseus grabs at Asterius’s arm to pull him down to the bed.

Asterius moves obligingly, tucking himself up against Theseus’s side. Finally, he asks, “And how do you feel now, my king?”

Theseus gives himself another beat to ensure he’s caught his breath. His first attempt at speech comes out more like “Hrrffrrsshggh”. His second (and third, and several more past that,) are not much better, and Asterius laughs, only half muffling it against Theseus’s hairline. Theseus refuses to give up, but his words are moving _further_ from what he means to say, not nearer.

Finally Asterius takes pity on him, and pats his chest gently. He grimaces when that lands it squarely in a pool of Theseus’s come. He has to sit up to reach for a cloth as he speaks.

“You may need a few more moments Theseus.”

Theseus huffs, but allows himself to go (relatively) quiet as Asterius wipes them both down. He lets himself hum in content pleasure as Asterius maneuvers his body as if it weighs nothing, ensuring Theseus is fully clean, and then returns to lay next to him.

After a few minutes, when Asterius is beginning to drift off (but Theseus is still wide awake forcing his brain to gather itself and cooperate), Theseus finally feels confident he can speak and slaps Asterius’s chest to alert him.

“Hrrmghf?” Asterius snorts.

“You... earned it. My... previous—“ Theseus words are slurring, though intelligible, and Asterius leans over to press their mouths together and silence him.

**Author's Note:**

> Sometimes you just gotta write ‘Theseus talks a lot’ instead of writing every damn thing Theseus says because who has the time for that.
> 
> (Do you still call it a creampie even if it’s not penetrative? Is there even a term/tag for that? Would I have the courage to use it even if I knew it? What the fucK am I doing?)


End file.
